


This Is What Idiocy Feels Like

by LadyDrace



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, College Student Stiles, Emotions, Feelings Realization, Getting Together, Good Alpha Derek Hale, Happy Ending, Love Confessions, M/M, POV Stiles, Past Stiles Stilinski/Original Character(s), Sexual Confusion, blink and you'll miss it smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 06:54:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13805835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDrace/pseuds/LadyDrace
Summary: Sex is supposed to make you feel good, it's not supposed to make you feel you stepped in something nasty. At least, if modern media is to be believed. But modern media never accounted for Stiles Stilinski.





	This Is What Idiocy Feels Like

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the fabulous Tash. <3 Congratz on the follower count!
> 
> Betaed by the real MVP, my bro Rita. <3

Stiles can't believe no one ever told him the truth. Media twists and exaggerates, sure, but he always assumed that when something is so mainstream and recognized that there must be _something_ to it.

 

But the first time he has sex is pretty damn awful. And he did everything right! He waited until he was ready, he did it with someone he trusted, and still... yuck. It was pretty terrible, and he's not at all sure he even wants to do it again.

 

He feels cheated. Everyone he knows walk around with goofy well-laid smiles on their faces after their one-night stands, during their walks of shame or between lectures, talking about last night's party.

 

But Stiles just feels _gross_.

 

Sure, there were orgasms and it was about on par with a half-decent jerk-off session as far as physical satisfaction goes, but emotionally? He feels dirty.

 

Which isn't fair at all to Todd, who is a really nice guy and did everything right and whom Stiles is still totally friends with. Hell, Todd isn't even upset when Stiles tells him it's not gonna happen again, though Stiles suspects it's because Todd assumes Stiles realized he was straight after trying the gay thing. He _could_ try and clear that up, but since he still doesn't know the reason himself, he takes the coward's route and just lets it be.

 

It's an annoying realization to have, because Stiles has a high sex drive and finds a lot of people attractive. But even with a few more tries, some even with long term partners, it just... doesn't seem to improve. So he pretty much resigns himself to a lifetime of jerking off and wondering what's wrong with him.

 

The good thing about college is that you meet a lot of different people, and Stiles learns a lot about sexual minorities. So even though he still doesn't have a name for what's up with him, he at least feels a little better knowing that not everybody figures these things out in college. Or ever.

 

Still. It's frustrating to have to decline offers from people he's definitely attracted to, because he just can't stand going through the feelings afterwards again.

 

“It's like there's this cake, right,” he tells Derek over the phone. “A cake you really like! You know it tastes good and you want it. But you have to walk through a septic tank to get it? So, like... you get the cake and it's nice, but then you stink for a week. That's how it feels.”

 

“That's a... vivid metaphor.”

 

“Trust me, it's a vivid feeling in real life,” Stiles says on a sigh, and flops back onto his bed. “Why doesn't this work? Is modern media just one big lie?”

 

There's rustling on the other end, so Derek is probably doing housework again. For some reason he's always doing that when Stiles calls. Probably because he's an actual adult with responsibilities, unlike Stiles' college student ass. “I don't think so. But modern media only really depicts a small part of the picture. There's so much more out there.”

 

“I know, but... it just doesn't make sense? I like sex, Derek! I _want_ sex! Why won't my brain let me have it?!”

 

“You could be demisexual.”

 

“Then why couldn't I even stomach it with Lacey? We dated for like five months!”

 

There's another small rustle, and Stiles knows it's a shrug, because he knows Derek so well now. He can picture every small movement he makes without even having to see him. “Who knows. Emotions aren't easy.”

 

“Yeah. I guess,” Stiles says. “You'd know, wouldn't you.”

 

Derek makes a small noise of agreement, clearly choosing to focus on what his hands are doing. Like he always does when conversations touch on something that's painful to him. He doesn't avoid them, he just puts his focus elsewhere to dial down the discomfort, and Stiles is so glad that he's got coping mechanisms now that don't include yelling or punching walls or being an unreasonable dick.

 

“Anyway, this has been your weekly issue of _what's wrong with Stiles Stilinski's sex life_. You're welcome.”

 

“Golly, you shouldn't have,” Derek says dryly, and Stiles cracks up. There's something about the way Derek delivers his jokes that always gets to Stiles, which is probably a big part of why he calls him so often. It always just cheers him up to talk to Derek, even if they don't say much. Derek calls too sometimes, but it's usually Stiles taking the initiative, which seems to suit Derek fine considering how Stiles can _hear_ the smile in his voice every time he picks up the phone.

 

“Aw man,” Stiles says once his laughter trails off. “I needed this. Thanks, Derek.”

 

“Sure. Anytime. I mean it.”

 

“Really? Even at two a.m. just to complain about the shitty coffee in the dorm?”

 

Derek huffs. “Sure, if that's what's bothering you, go ahead. Though you should really not be drinking coffee that late anyway.”

 

“It was just a hypothetical scenario, Derek, jeez.”

 

“You're telling me you _haven't_ been up studying past midnight at least three times in the last week?”

 

Stiles can't help but pout to himself, because dammit, Derek knows him too well. “No comment.”

 

“Just... please take better care of yourself, okay? Or I'll come and tuck you in myself.”

 

There's a warm, squirmy feeling in Stiles' stomach, making him wonder if he forgot lunch again. “Promises, promises,” he says, grinning into the empty room.

 

They banter for a little longer and then hang up so Stiles can start getting ready for his last lecture of the day. Turns out he did not forget lunch, as Cindy can confirm to him when he meets up with her for studying that same night. Cindy is one of those people Stiles likes. He'd love to date her, but thanks to the whole sex issue he doesn't feel like it would be fair to her. But she's happy enough just being friends, and Stiles will take it.

 

“You seriously need more sleep if you can't even remember having lunch. I was there, I watched you cram three sandwiches into your face,” she says while rummaging around in her bag for her notes. “I'd be offended you think I'm so forgettable, but I wouldn't want to get in the way of _phone person_.”

 

“Who?” Stiles asks distractedly, already highlighting things.

 

“Whoever I keep walking in on you calling? It's, like, every other day, and you always have this goofy smile on your face.”

 

Stiles has to think for a minute, because there are really only a few people he can think of who he calls often enough that Cindy would refer to it as every other day. “Scott?”

 

“Nah, when you're talking to Scott you're very _bro_ , if you know what I mean,” she says with a grin. “This guy you were talking to last... Tuesday maybe? And when I came in you were all smiling and gooey. And when you hung up you said something like _love you too, asshole_.”

 

“What, Derek?”

 

“If that's someone you call _asshole_ with a smile on your face, sure, I guess,” Cindy says, already absorbed in her notes.

 

“I don't... I don't have a goofy smile on my face when I talk to Derek.” Stiles protests a little weakly. “He's... well. _Derek_.”

 

“Well, look in the mirror next time then, and tell me what _you'd_ call it.”

 

It sounds silly, but it actually eats at him. Why would he be smiling in a way that would make Cindy assume... whatever it is she assumes, when he talks to Derek? That makes no sense. But if all else fails there's always the scientific method.

 

“Hey, Derek. This is a test,” Stiles says when Derek picks up.

 

“A test of what?”

 

“My face, apparently,” he explains, looking at himself in the mirror. “A test that's failing already. Maybe Cindy needs to get out more,” he ponders while scrutinizing his face. A zit is budding on his forehead again, ugh.

 

“Cindy? Your study buddy?”

 

“Yeah, she's cool. Would have dated her, but... you know, my _thing_ kinda gets in the way.”

 

“If you can't talk about it you shouldn't be having it,” Derek delivers in a flawless deadpan voice, and Stiles grins. And then stops dead. Because there it is.

 

“Oh no,” he says, watching his smile drop in the mirror. “Ohhh no, this is... this is bad.”

 

“What?” Derek asks, clearly alarmed. “Is something wrong? Do you need help?” He sounds like he's already on his way out the door, and Stiles needs to _stop him_.

 

“No! No, god no, I just realized... something. I forgot... a thing. It's nothing. Well, it's something, but it's not important,” he rambles, though he's sure Derek can hear the lie.

 

“Is aunt Bessie in town?” Derek asks carefully, and Stiles has to swallow a huge lump, because oh god, they have a coded phrase if they're in danger and need help, and how did he never realize how significant this is?

 

“No. I'm okay. There's no one here, nothing dangerous, I promise. I just... I need to think.”

 

“Okay,” Derek says slowly, and Stiles can hear car keys being dropped back into the chipped, lopsided bowl Isaac made for him in art class. “Promise me you'll call me if you need anything, okay?”

 

“I promise,” Stiles says, and then hangs up, because _holy shit_ , he's having a crisis. He spends another terrified few minutes just staring at his face in the mirror before he's forced to admit it to himself.

 

“Fuck. I'm in love with Derek,” he says, and then has to spend ten minutes in front of the mirror just breathing himself down.

 

This is so out of left field, except for how it really isn't. He and Derek have been close for years. Probably since the summer he helped look for Boyd and Erica, which is maybe three years ago now. The pack is steady, nothing is trying to kill them, and Derek has made it his mission to be there for all of them, so it didn't occur to Stiles not to call his friend and alpha with updates on everything.

 

But, god, he realizes he hasn't even told _Scott_ about his weird sex issues. Somehow his bro, who has seen him in all manners of undress and literally face-planted into his naked crotch more than once, wasn't the one he felt he could tell this to. It was _Derek_.

 

There's something horribly wrong with him.

 

Clearly Derek thinks so too, because barely five hours later there's a knock on the door, and when Stiles opens it, there he is, looking ready to either attack something or force someone to shower and eat. Which Stiles suddenly remembers that Derek has done more than once. Shit, Derek cares about him _a lot_.

 

“Hey,” Stiles says weakly. “Guess you didn't believe me when I said I'd call if I needed anything.”

 

“I did. I just thought that maybe you needed something you didn't know yet?” Derek says, and Stiles finally steps aside to let him in. They might as well do this now. It's not like Stiles is getting any answers just wallowing in confused agony, which is what he's been doing for most of the day.

 

“Are you okay?” Derek asks carefully, sitting down in Stiles' desk chair.

 

Stiles runs a hand through his hair with a harsh laugh. “No. Maybe. I dunno.”

 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

 

“No. But since you're here I might as well,” Stiles says, sitting down on his bed with a sigh.

 

Derek is already leaning forward with his _caring alpha face_ on, and Stiles almost smiles at the familiarity. Too bad Stiles is gonna ruin that.

 

“Turns out I'm in love with you,” he says, because if they're doing this he might as well rip off the band-aid.

 

“Okay?” Derek says, his face still mostly radiating concern, which in turn makes Stiles frown.

 

“This... isn't surprising to you?”

 

“Yes. But we're talking about you, right now. Clearly you're upset about it,” Derek says, and Stiles shakes his head.

 

“No, Derek, it's- it's about _us_. Apparently I have all these feelings for you, and I didn't even know it. And you're not even... I dunno, shocked?”

 

Derek shrugs. “No.”

 

“Why the hell not?!”

 

There's a moment where Derek can't seem to meet his eyes, taking a deep breath and fixing his gaze on the carpet before looking up again. “I don't want to make this about me,” he says firmly. “You're the one who's upset.”

 

“I'd be a lot less upset if you'd tell me what you're feeling right now, asshole,” Stiles points out, annoyed and confused in turn.

 

But at least he doesn't seem like the only one who's confused, a torn look finding a home on Derek's face before it's wiped off, like magic. “I don't... want to risk-” he cuts himself off, and Stiles can see his supportive alpha mask wobble before dropping completely with a heavy sigh. “I don't want you to feel... obligated,” is what he says, and Stiles feels like he can't breathe.

 

“Obligated to what? Please, Derek... tell me.”

 

“To act on these feelings if you don't want to, just to cater to mine,” Derek tells the carpet, and Stiles feels that squirming in his gut again. Obviously it had nothing to do with food, goddammit.

 

“And... those are? Come on, I shared mine,” he teases gently, and feels like he could fly when it coaxes a tiny laugh out of Derek.

 

“I think you can guess.”

 

Stiles shakes his head with a grin so huge it makes his cheeks hurt. “Nuh uh. If I had to confess so do you. No worming outta this.”

 

That makes Derek roll his eyes hugely, all douchy and familiar, and, _god_ , Stiles loves him. “Of course,” he huffs, and then finally turns those beautiful eyes back to Stiles. “I... admire you. Cherish you. And I'm pretty sure I've loved you since... since that summer,” he admits, voice low as if speaking too loudly makes it worse. And that might be true, because it feels like the bottom drops out of Stiles' stomach.

 

“...that long? Really?”

 

Derek nods, his smile going somewhat sad. “Yeah. But you were too young and I... you know. Had some things to work through.”

 

“Am I... still too young?” Stiles asks, just to check, and Derek's slow head-shake is enough to make the air suddenly feel like custard, forcing Stiles to heave in a deep breath to avoid tumbling into an anxiety attack, because fuck his fucked up emotions.

 

The only way to avoid the panic is to power through, so he does the one thing he can think to do with everything he knows now, and launches himself at Derek with enough force that they almost topple over on the shitty desk chair. But Derek catches him easily, eyes wide and hopeful, and there's no way Stiles can't kiss him. So he does.

 

It feels like something that's _years_ overdue, and since it actually _is_ , Stiles gives it everything he's got. He doesn't mean for it to get so heated, but before he knows it he's shoving Derek onto the bed and pulling at his jacket.

 

Derek goes where Stiles directs him, shedding clothing and chasing his lips like a treat as reward for his cooperation. And Stiles can't deny him anything, finding his mouth again and again, pushing and pulling and meeting in the middle in so many little ways Stiles can't believe he's been going without for so long.

 

He should be afraid. Afraid that he'll end up afterwards with the same gross feeling he's had so many times now, but Derek is naked under him, chest heaving and eyes catching on every detail of him with so much adoration that it brings Stiles to the brink of tears a few times.

 

How did he not know that he had this? How long has he been fucking _blind_?

 

It's not slow or careful at all, like a first time should be. But even in the frenzied, breath-catching rush of it, it's also just so _loving_ , every touch like a blessing on Stiles' skin, and he feels _so much_ as he races to the finish in no time at all.

 

“God, please,” he begs, Derek's teeth digging into his neck and leaving marks that are definitely going to hurt later, but it's wonderful to know that he's not the only one feeling desperate. “Please, Derek.”

 

“Anything,” Derek pants against the wet skin, and Stiles catches his mouth again as he ruts into Derek's fist, coming all over them both in a few frantic thrusts. Derek follows only a minute or so after, licking hungrily at the marks he left on Stiles' neck, and when quiet descends, both of them flopping down side by side on the narrow bed, Stiles prepares for the feeling he knows so well now.

 

A minute goes by, their heaving breaths slowing and the jizz cooling. And it doesn't happen. The disgusting feeling doesn't come, and Stiles frowns at the ceiling.

 

“How are you feeling?” Derek asks, like he knows what Stiles is thinking. Which he probably does.

 

“It's not... I don't feel it?”

 

“Feel what?” Derek asks carefully, and this time Stiles can hear the worry in his voice. The worry that he's not good enough, that he made things worse somehow, because Derek will never stop thinking that he fucks people up, and Stiles is abruptly determined to spend the rest of his life making sure Derek is told otherwise every single day.

 

“The grossness. It's not there. I feel...” he sighs, trying to put words to the warm, full feeling inside. “I feel _super satisfied_ , dude.”

 

Derek huffs out a small laugh. “Maybe modern media wasn't lying after all,” he says, propping himself up on an elbow so he can gaze loving at Stiles. And ain't that just the most amazing thing.

 

What's probably more amazing is that it doesn't feel like something groundbreaking or shocking. It feels _familiar_. As passionate and urgent as it was, it felt like something that was already there, somehow. Like it was just quietly smoldering in the background, waiting for just the right gust of wind to flare it up.

 

And that's when Stiles realizes what the fuck his problem was. “Oh my _god_ ,” he says, awed at his level of stupidity. “I am... such a gigantic _idiot!_ ”

 

“I'm not arguing with that,” Derek says with a grin, and Stiles kicks half-heartedly at him.

 

“Asshole.”

 

“Yeah, alright. But why are you an idiot this time?”

 

Stiles props himself up too, facing Derek head on for this. “Because I somehow didn't realize that I felt icky after sleeping with people that weren't you, because they weren't _you_. God, I had no idea I was in this deep. I felt like I was cheating on you from day one,” he explains, hating himself more with every word. “And I didn't even know it.”

 

“Hey,” Derek says, pulling him in with a warm and strong arm that feels so right around Stiles' waist. “I didn't know either. Not really. I knew I cared for you a lot, but it's only in the last... maybe year or so that I figured out why I was so protective of you all the time.”

 

“You protect all of us,” Stiles points out, but Derek shakes his head.

 

“Not like this. Not driving for over four hours straight even after you told me everything was fine. Not talking on the phone every other day when I hate phone calls. Not... wanting to murder Cindy for being someone you wanted to be with,” he admits quietly, and Stiles has to kiss that frown off his face.

 

“Good thing you didn't, or she would have never been able to hit me with that clue-by-four.”

 

Derek nods. “We'll have to buy her some flowers.”

 

“Or set her up with someone hot. I bet Isaac knows some hot people.”

 

“Are you saying _I_ don't know hot people?”

 

“Sure, but they're all either your family or they're taken. Including me, now,” Stiles points out gleefully, and Derek is forced to concede with a half-nod.

 

“Including you.”

 

Stiles has to just smile goofily at Derek for a long time, and it's so miraculous to see how Derek smiles back, just as dopey and lovesick.

 

“Wow, we're gonna be _so gross_ ,” Stiles says, realizing the truth of it in that same moment.

 

“Only if you want to,” Derek says, but he's nodding, and oh god, this is gonna be _amazing_.

 

“I want to. I wanna be gross with you _forever_.”

 

It might be too big to say after only just getting their shit together, but Derek's face goes even more gooey, which Stiles didn't even think was possible, and he pulls Stiles in for another kiss. “Yes. Please,” he says against Stiles' lips.

 

And Stiles might be an idiot, but that's one request he won't be dumb enough to refuse.

 

End.

 


End file.
